


Wouldn't It Be Nice

by renrenners



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Businessman Shiro, M/M, Mild Angst with a happy ending, PINING KEITH, Sheithlentines 2019, florist keith, flower shop au, i'm really bad at tags guys, implied Shiro/Allura but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renrenners/pseuds/renrenners
Summary: Shiro asks Keith about his work, about the arrangements spread out across the shop that he’s made and in return tells Keith all about his own. And, without fail, he leaves with flowers in hand every day. His eyes twinkle like stars and his smile is as bright as the sun and truthfully, Keith never stood a chance.Keith doesn’t stand a chance, but the smile on Shiro’s face when he sees each day’s arrangement is reward enough.





	Wouldn't It Be Nice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheRedPalaaladin (Thighz)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighz/gifts).



> My embarrassingly late Sheithlentines gift to the wonderful Vel! One of their requests was any kind of flower shop AU and I was more than happy to oblige. Please go follow Vel over on [twitter](https://twitter.com/blackpalaladin) for lots of A+++ quality Sheith threads that I absolutely haven't cried over.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know nothing about flowers or flower shops or flower arranging. I have never made a bouquet in my life. Any flower related inconsistencies are entirely my own and please don't call me out on them because then I'd be sad whenever I see my cat, ironically named Flower.

It starts on a Tuesday.

January’s a cold and miserable month in the city, the sky darkened with clouds that threaten to give way at any moment. It doesn’t help that it’s one of the slowest times of the year for the shop either, a standstill stuck between Christmas arrangements and Valentine’s bouquets. Keith spends his days piecing together arrangements to fill the shop’s front window, hidden away in the back room while his mother mans the counter. Every so often he’ll hear her, talking to a customer or on the phone with his father, filling up the shop’s otherwise quiet space.

It’s a simple life, but Keith can’t see himself anywhere else.

Krolia’s on her lunch when the skies finally break, leaving Keith to watch the downpour outside the shop from the stool behind the counter. Hooded figures hurry by without so much as a glance at the quiet little shop, anxious to get to wherever they’re going while remaining as dry as possible.

Keith’s fussing with a bouquet when the bell over the door rings, doesn’t even bother looking up from his work until he hears someone clear their throat awkwardly. “Um, excuse me? I don’t suppose you’ve got a towel I could borrow?”

There’s the human equivalent of a drowned rat standing just inside the door, silver hair plastered to his head and what was probably once a well-fitted suit now dripping puddles onto the floor. It’s a bizarre combination of humorous and pathetic that has Keith staring for a long moment before any semblance of sense returns to him. “Oh, uh, yeah. Gimme a sec.”

Keith almost expects the man to be gone when he emerges from the back with two towels no more than thirty seconds later. In fact he’s pretty sure he had a fever dream that went something like this back in junior high. But no, the man’s still standing there in all of his wet glory, though he’s stripped himself of his drenched jacket. The white shirt beneath doesn’t seem to have fared much better however, pale and translucent where it clings to the skin below.

“We don’t have many that aren’t stained to hell and back.” Keith says, forcing his eyes up from the man’s chest as he hands the towels over, “Hopefully these two will do. You’re welcome to hang around till it lets up, if you want, uh-”

“Shiro.” The man offers as he uses the towel to dry his hair, the silver strands clumping together almost comically. “Thanks for this. I was worried I’d have to run all the way back to the office in this.”

“Yeah, course.” Keith says with a shrug, hastily turning back to the counter, “I mean, we’re here. Might as well help.”

Silence fills the space for a long minute, Keith returning to his work as Shiro pats himself down with a towel to little avail. Outside the storm shows no sign of letting up, sheets of rain continuing to pelt those unfortunate enough to still be out in it.

Keith almost forgets that he has company until two wet, albeit neatly folded towels are set down on the counter beside him, just inside his range of vision. “I don’t want to sound rude,” Shiro begins, resting against the counter across from Keith, “But I wouldn’t peg you as the type to own a flower shop.”

“I don’t.” Keith replies dryly without so much as a glance up from his arrangement, “It’s my mom’s shop, she’s the one that’s big on flowers. I just work here.”

“It’s a good look on you.” Shiro says, and there’s an honesty in it that actually makes Keith look up, brow furrowed. Shiro’s eyes are a little wide, almost as though he can’t even believe what he’s just said, and there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks as he clarifies, “The flowers. You look good with the flowers.”

“Well, yeah.” Keith says as he follows Shiro’s gaze down to the collection of chrysanthemums in front of him. The petals are soft beneath his touch, reds and whites so intricately entwined with one another in a way that only nature could perfect, “Flowers are for everyone. No matter who you are, or what you do, flowers don’t judge."

"You sound rather fond of them yourself, for someone who _just works here_." There's something almost teasing in the way Shiro says it that doesn't rile Keith up quite like it normally would. 

"Spend enough time with something and you learn to like it."

Outside, thunder roars.

—

Keith doesn’t expect Shiro to come back, but he does. Every day at around the same time he shows up, lunch in hand. Shiro’s easy to talk to, funny and witty and devilishly handsome on top of it all. He’s everything that Keith isn’t, and for once that’s more charming than it is annoying.

He asks Keith about his work, about the arrangements spread out across the shop that he’s made and in return tells Keith all about his own. And, without fail, he leaves with flowers in hand every day. His eyes twinkle like stars and his smile is as bright as the sun and truthfully, Keith never stood a chance.

Keith finds himself throwing himself into arrangements once Shiro’s left for the day, carefully and deliberately picking flowers from the refrigerated case that say the things he never could. White tipped gloxinias for love at first sight, red carnations for an aching heart, gardenias for secrecy. He ignores the pointed glances that Krolia gives him, doesn’t have it in him to put actual words to the things he’s feeling. It’s just a crush, a stupid crush. If it compels him to work a little harder than so what?

Shiro has someone waiting for him at home, of that much Keith is sure. They’ve never talked about it outright, but no one buys bouquets for themselves — and everyday at that. Keith doesn’t stand a chance, but the smile on Shiro’s face when he sees each day’s arrangement is reward enough.

It’s fine, Keith tells himself. What they have is enough. The crush will pass, regardless of how it feels more like it only grows with every passing day.

It doesn’t pass.

When February ticks around things start to change. The shop is getting steadily more busy as Valentine’s Day approaches and Keith finds himself without the time to spend pouring over what his mom has teasingly started referring to as “crush bouquets”.

It’s busy enough that Keith doesn’t even notice Shiro’s appearance one early afternoon, too engrossed with wrapping another customer’s order with cellophane and ribbon. In fact, it’s only once Keith is ringing his customer up that he notices Shiro standing in front of the refrigerated display, shoulder to shoulder with a long haired woman and Keith can’t help the way his heart plummets.

“Keith!” Shiro calls out when he turns just enough to notice his friend’s gaze and the smile on his face is as radiant as always as he guides the woman over to the counter, “Allura, this is Keith.”

“A pleasure, Keith.” Allura says with a polite smile of her own, “The bouquets Shiro’s been bringing back have been exquisite, I had to force him to bring me here to see for myself.”

“Oh, um, I’m glad you like them.” Keith fumbles, wincing internally as soon as the words have left his mouth. _I’m glad you like them_ , what an utterly idiotic thing to say.

“Oh they are just gorgeous.” Allura continues, “I know this might be a little short notice, but I was wondering if you’d be available to do wedding arrangements for us. After seeing so much of your work these past few weeks I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have do it.”

‘Wedding’ rings in Keith’s head like a bell. It’s nothing new, nothing unexpected, yet that doesn’t stop the way the word seems to pierce his heart. “When’s the wedding?” He asks once his mouth no longer feels like the desert he grew up in, and if his hands are clenched into fists behind the counter, well, it’s not like anyone can see them.

“The last Saturday of the month.” Allura answers, “I’m sure you’re busy right now, with the holiday and everything, but it would mean so much to us to have your flowers there.”

Keith has never wanted to say no to something so badly in his life, and he’s almost tempted to, if not for the fact that his mother would murder him for it. Crush bouquets were one thing, turning down a job potentially in the thousands is something else entirely.

He spends nearly half an hour writing down Allura’s specifications, colors and sizes for each and every floral piece that will decorate her union to Shiro. Between bouquets and boutonnieres, to table centerpieces and venue decor there will be more than enough to keep Keith busy for the next few weeks, regardless of how much it’s going to gut him.

Shiro and Allura are just leaving when Krolia returns. It takes no more than a look between the departing couple and the ticket beneath Keith’s hand for the pieces to click together and then she’s gathering her son in a hug.

For the first time in years, Keith doesn’t object.

—

Keith comes to a resolution as he spends countless hours pouring over seemingly endless wedding arrangements. It’s pointless to pine after a happily married man, especially considering he’d never even stood a chance to begin with, so these flowers would be the last. One final confession before Shiro moved on with his life, and then Keith would do the same.

Allura requested shades of blue and pink, but left the specific flowers for Keith to pick. Normally it would be an honor to have a client so confident in his skills that they left everything up to him, but right now it was something of a curse.

There’s almost a twisted sort of joy to knowing that his last confession will be spread across the entirety of Shiro’s wedding, even if no one knows it as such. It will live on in photo albums and picture frames long after Shiro stops frequenting the shop, forgets about Keith entirely.

Pink camellias for _longing_. Sweet peas for _goodbye_. Carnations for _I’ll never forget you_. Forget-me-nots for _don’t forget me_. Cyclamens and hyacinths, peonies and violets, clusters of pinks and blues and whites fill up Keith’s work space more and more every day

Shiro still comes everyday, sweet smiles and pleasant conversations. He sits at the counter while Keith works, eats his lunch as they talk and it’s still the best hour of Keith’s day. And when it’s time for him to go, he leaves with a bouquet, carefully crafted by Keith’s hands.

Camellias and daffodils and hyacinths. All of the things Keith can’t say.

—

Keith’s expecting nothing but the cold chill of the night as he closes up the shop the Thursday before the wedding. It’s the first time in almost a week that he’s not staying late, if only because Krolia had given him a Look when she’d left for the night that he knows better than to disobey. There will be enough time tomorrow for the finishing touches before Saturday’s delivery, and with that Keith has resolved to end things.

He’s cleaning up in the back when he hears the telltale jingle of the bell over the front door and exasperation is immediate, “We’re closed!”

“It’s me!” A familiar voice calls back, and Keith all but scrambles back to the front.

Shiro’s waiting by the counter with a smile when Keith finally pops his head out, a thick wool coat buttoned over the suit that Keith had seen him in that afternoon. Not for the first time, he thinks of how unfair it is for a single person to look so stupidly attractive while doing something as simple as standing.

“Am I interrupting?” Shiro asks after a long moment passes and it’s only then that Keith realizes that he’s expected to say something.

“No, I uh- I just wasn’t expecting anyone.” He fumbles, “What’s up? Come to take a peek at the goods for the big day?”

“No,” Shiro says with a chuckle, “Allura’s been keeping me well up to date with all the pictures you’ve been sending her. I can wait until Saturday to see them in person. I was actually wondering if you’d like to grab some dinner with me?”

If it had been anyone else, Keith might have thought that he was being asked on a date. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Shiro. Getting-married-on-Saturday Shiro, who hadn’t the slightest clue that Keith had more than platonic feelings towards him. It is wholly inappropriate to go out with a soon-to-be-groom when you have feelings for said groom, and Keith knows perfectly well that he needs to say no, needs to shut this down before it can inevitably explode in his face, but —

Just this once, before he pulls the plug on all of his feelings, he’ll allow himself to indulge. It’s just as friends, after all.

“Yeah, sure.” Keith answers, “Just give me a couple minutes to finish up here and we can go.”

There’s not much in the way of fine dining in the neighborhood, but there is a 24/7 diner with sinfully delicious food that Keith is more than happy to suggest. It’s nearly empty, only a couple scattered booths filled as they’re led to their own. The quiet would be nice, if not for the fact that it exacerbates the ever growing trepidation that Keith’s about to do something horrible.

It’s just dinner with a friend.

Keith’s still not sure if he’ll be able to look Allura in the face on Saturday.

Conversation is as easy as it always is with Shiro, they talk about everything and nothing, and by the time their food arrives all nervousness has left Keith completely. It’s just dinner with a friend.

“Allura was telling me about something interesting today.” Shiro says in between mouthfuls of fries, and despite the fact that there’s a table between them their knees still brush against each other beneath it. “She saw it online after looking up some of the flowers you’re using, that there’s this whole language of flowers, and when they’re put together they can carry messages.”

The dread jolts back through Keith in an instant. Allura knows. And if Allura knows that means that Shiro knows, knows all about Keith’s dirty little secret, which can only mean that the inevitable rejections is mere moments away. Keith almost wishes that Shiro wasn’t so damn kind, that he had just chewed him out at the shop instead of taking him out just to let him down gently. It would have been easier that way.

Across the table Shiro’s already saying something else but Keith can’t hear it through the pounding of blood in his ears and he as no intentions of letting Shiro finish. It’s better to pull the knife out himself, end it once and for all on his own terms.

“Look, I get it.” Keith says, and though he keeps his eyes averted his voice doesn’t waver, “What I did— what I’m doing, is grossly inappropriate. You have Allura, and I should have respected that. It’s for the best that we cut ties here. I’ll ask my mom to deliver the flowers on Saturday, you won’t have to see me again.”

He doesn’t look at Shiro, doesn’t want to know what kind of look is on the man’s face. Whatever it is, he deserves it, but Keith is selfish. He wants to remember Shiro for his smile, not his anger. Fumbling a couple of twenties out of his wallet and onto the table Keith slips out of the booth, desperate to escape before he makes an even bigger fool of himself. He’s not entirely sure that’s possible, though. It certainly feels like he’s at rock bottom.

Before he can make it more than a step there’s a hand around his own, metal fingers almost painfully cold on his burning hot skin. Shiro doesn’t say anything, just holds him there, and Keith—

Keith deserves this. He knows he does, has known it for all of these weeks he’d spent carefully crafting a love confession for this man who would never be his. What was never supposed to be more than a stupid crush had grown so grossly out of proportion

“I was going to ask you to be my date, actually.” Shiro says, and Keith’s gaze snaps onto him in a heartbeat. There’s nothing malicious in the words, or in the tender smile on Shiro’s face, and somehow that only makes it worse. “It’s not my wedding, Keith. Allura’s practically my sister, I’m not marrying her.”

“You’re… not…” Keith repeats numbly, and he doesn’t resist when Shiro gently tugs him back into the booth, this time on the same side, “But… the flowers. Who were you buying all those flowers for?”

“Well, I mean, it would be weird if I went to a flower shop every day and never bought anything.” There’s a hint of a blush dusting Shiro’s cheeks and Keith realizes belatedly that they’re close enough to touch, thighs pressed together and if he moves his head _just so_ their lips would meet.

It’s a fantasy he’s pushed to the back of his mind for so long that the thought of it now makes his head spin. Shiro’s not getting married. Keith could kiss him, right now, and Shiro would let him. Probably. He’s not entirely positive on that part but the exhilaration coursing through his veins has no time for doubts and Keith is surging forward in an instant.

Shiro meets him halfway, lips quirked into a smile. It’s no more than a peck, just their lips barely brushing against each other, but Keith wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“You really spent hundreds of dollars on flowers… just to come see me at work?” Keith asks incredulously when they part, his hands cupped around the back of Shiro’s neck though he has no recollection of when that happened. Likewise there’s a hand on his waist, fingers rucking up the hem of his shirt to rub comforting circles just above his hipbone. It’s both new and familiar, all at the same time.

“My office has never looked nor smelled better.” Shiro says almost indignantly and Keith can’t help but laugh.

“Maybe next time save us the trouble and just say something.”

**Author's Note:**

> My writing style consists entirely of comma abuse.
> 
> Feel free to come scream Sheith with me on [tumblr](https://renrenners.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/ren_renners).


End file.
